


i found you (in the silence)

by fuechsli



Series: andreil week 2019 [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Andreil Week 2019, Day 2, Just a snippet of a larger story I'd like to write, M/M, Magic, Neil and Andrew got to know each other after the Outbreak, Neil ran away, Someday, This is pretty much unfinished, and this happened, because otherwise it doesn't make much sense, but for once there's no blood or pain or torture, but they're here in the aesthetic in my head, deafening sound, discussion/mention of fictional gods, i don't think there's a trigger warning for this?, i really have to expand on this some day, i'm gonna stop tagging now, made a pretty nice life of it, no physical pain at least, or well, other than maybe silence as a threat and the world turning against humanity?, so there's that, the fluorescent lights don't actually appear in this fic, then Andrew got infected, then they met the Foxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuechsli/pseuds/fuechsli
Summary: a tiny snippet for that post-apocalyptic au i'd like to write one day.After the Outbreak, the infection spread. It turned people into beasts, single-minded killer machines without any shred of humanity left. Their souls were corrupted — if they weren't part of those few born with magic in their blood.Andrew got turned and Neil was left alone.This is the aftermath.-----It is only a recent development, that silence feels like the most deafening sound.Neil used to find solace in the whisper-quietness, used to feel secure in the knowledge that he’d hear it if someone approached, that he’s learned to blend in with the shadows, after all, that he’d be able to escape.Silence isn’t safe anymore. Silence means danger, means a prickling scalp, all hairs standing on edge, because your subconsciousness knows that there’s a threat, knows that there’s something inherently wrong, but it can’t pinpoint it, can’t find the source, doesn’t know how to defend against something that shouldn’t be there at all.-----written for #andreilweek2019.day 2 ≫ fluorescent lights | deafening sound | secrets





	i found you (in the silence)

**Author's Note:**

> if you bothered to read the tags, you should actually know everything you need to know now :) 
> 
> this is something messy and experimental (for me), ripped out of the middle of that AU idea that i've got, and it fit so well for this prompt, so i just decided to go for it.  
> now i regret this decision because i really CAN'T start another WIP without at least continuing all the other that i've got going on at the moment, soo... this will have to wait.
> 
> but i still hope you enjoy this, if anyone even cares to read anything by me after the mess that was yesterday's fix x'D
> 
> have fun!

It is only a recent development, that silence feels like the most deafening sound. 

Neil used to find solace in the whisper-quietness, used to feel secure in the knowledge that he’d hear it if someone approached, that he’s learned to blend in with the shadows, after all, that he’d be able to escape. 

Silence isn’t safe anymore. Silence means danger, means a prickling scalp, all hairs standing on edge, because your subconsciousness knows that there’s a threat, knows that there’s something inherently _wrong_ , but it can’t pinpoint it, can’t find the source, doesn’t know how to defend against something that shouldn’t be there at all. 

Neil can’t stand the silence, now, has learned to be afraid of it, and he _hates_ that he can’t hear a sound. 

(He hates that he knows exactly what he’s listening for, that he won’t ever hear it again.)

There’s his heartbeat, his shallow breath. 

There’s the rustle of plastic when he shifts his weight. The barely-patched-up wound in his upper arm aches faintly, his fingers twitch. 

There’s nothing else. 

He breathes again, deeper, grips his pistol tighter. 

He can’t hear anything when he moves now. The roar of blood in his ears has quieted down, like flames extinguished by rain.

Then, there’s goosebumps covering his skin and a breeze in his hair, but even the wind is silent now. 

Even the wind doesn’t dare to make a noise. 

Neil freezes. 

The weight of the gun feels solid in his hands, real, almost, but he knows that it won’t mean anything, in the end. 

It’s a false kind of security, a semblance of something that used to be true but isn’t, anymore. (A reminder of everything that he’s lost.) 

After all, guns have long since stopped working as a weapon against the beasts. (And Neil won’t let himself look at knives.)

The gun feels solid, but the world is muted and grey, covered by that invisible, impenetrable fog of the unnatural. 

Neil can’t hear his heartbeat anymore, or his breath. 

They’re too close now. 

_He’d wanted to say goodbye_ , he thinks, and has the absurd urge to laugh.

He doubts that he’s going to get to do that, not anymore. 

His time is quickly running out, after all, and his thoughts keep spiraling around the fact that he can’t trust the silence anymore, that the very nature, the laws of physics themselves, have turned against humanity, have decided that protecting the planet ranks higher than the beings inhabiting it. 

It’s still hard to wrap his head around this, how the world itself abandoned him — them all — but it makes sense, he thinks, because he remembers a long-ago conversation, remembers the undeniable fact that “ _it’s not the world that’s cruel; it’s the people in it_ ”, the look in Andrew’s face and the realization that he wasn’t alone in this, after everything. 

(But, _oh_ , he is alone now.)

(He was born nothing and he will die nothing — if he’s lucky enough to die tonight, that is.)

Neil closes his eyes and breathes, because he doesn’t pray. Because he knows that the gods have stopped listening — have been devoured by the same creatures that are hunting him now, maybe. 

Or maybe they’re too afraid, have gone into hiding, just like the cowards Neil has always thought them of as. It’s not as if they’ve ever bothered to listen to him, after all, as if they’ve ever _cared_ — or maybe they’d just been powerless in the face of what he’d wished for, of the things he wanted undone. 

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t car, not anymoree. 

And it’s not like it matters, after all. He doesn’t think he would have ever ended up in heaven even if he believed in such notions. 

A shadow passes behind his eyelids, soundless against the light of an early sunrise. 

_They’re closing in_ , Neil thinks, and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds now. He feels surprisingly calm now, clear-headed. 

His life doesn’t pass in front of his inner eye, there’s no nostalgia, no _what-if’s_ left to ponder. 

He wishes he could have said goodbye, yes, but that’s a wish that had been his constant companion for years now, because his mother is long gone, had died early on, only a few weeks after the Outbreak, after they’d been running for years already. ( _It’s a little ironic_ , Neil thinks, a cruel little game of _Hathia_ , of fate, for his mother to die without any involvement of his father or his men.) And Andrew… Neil doesn’t think about Andrew. Can’t let himself, even in his last moments, because he knows that Andrew won’t be waiting for him, that he was too _sentimental_ , in the end, he just couldn’t do it. He broke his promise and Andrew would hate him, if he still could. 

(It’s the main reason why he doesn’t try to run, why the gun is more of a symbolic last resistance than anything else. The world — the beasts — had taken everything the moment they’d taken Andrew, and there was no one to blame but Neil.)

(He _deserves_ this.)

But still—

_Fuck you_ , he thinks, then, a last spiteful curse against those who were supposed to be there but have only ever been absent. At least part of the blame is on them.

He doesn’t plead, doesn’t try to bargain. 

If this is the end, then he’ll take it, because it’s still better than any other kind of death he’d ever imagined for himself. 

It’ll be quick, at least, maybe even painless, because the beasts haven’t ever been known for their patience, or their cruelty. Only for their quickness, and the ruthless kind of efficiency that comes with single-minded predators. 

The silence is loud enough to make Neil dizzy, now. His hands shake, his scalp prickles, there’s goosebumps all over his arms and a shudder runs down his back. 

They’re closer still; had never been so close.

They haven’t ever hesitated for so long once they got their victim cornered—

_What are they waiting for?_ , Neil thinks, heart caught in his throat, and opens his eyes.

The grip around his weapon goes slack. 

It clatters to the floor, soundlessly, and Neil can only stare.

“I thought I told you to stop being the rabbit.”

A dry voice, familiar, and so _so_ welcome.

_Andrew_.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> feel free to leave comments and kudos, come chat on [tumblr](https://baerlii.tumblr.com) or look at the [visual inspiration for this fic](https://www.pinterest.ch/nadunawrites/andreilweek2019-aftg/2-fluorescent-lights-deafening-sound-secrets/).


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